


It's Not Going to Stop ('Til You Wise Up)

by cordelianne



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordelianne/pseuds/cordelianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sulu and Chekov aren’t friends. In fact, Sulu suspects that Chekov hates him. That doesn’t stop them from getting it on.<br/><b>Warnings:</b> Awkward mealtime encounters, Jim providing romantic advice, pushy Chekov and confused Sulu.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Going to Stop ('Til You Wise Up)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to both [](http://savoytruffle.livejournal.com/profile)[**savoytruffle**](http://savoytruffle.livejournal.com/) and [](http://reremouse.livejournal.com/profile)[**reremouse**](http://reremouse.livejournal.com/) for their cheerleading, feedback, multiple readings and betas. I especially appreciate it considering that [](http://savoytruffle.livejournal.com/profile)[**savoytruffle**](http://savoytruffle.livejournal.com/) is a die-hard Kirk/McCoy shipper and had to deal with naked Chekov. Also greatly appreciated is [](http://reremouse.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://reremouse.livejournal.com/)**reremouse** , who provided her helpful TOS knowledge despite not being as excited by STXI as I am.  
> The title is from the Aimee Mann song [Wise Up](http://www.lyricsdepot.com/aimee-mann/wise-up.html).

 

They’re not friends.

In fact, Sulu doesn’t even like him.

Not because he’s jealous of some kid genius – Chekov may be smart in the head, but a great pilot has to be smart in his _body_ , too. No matter how big the ship, its slightest movements have to feel like your own. Sulu has that with the _Enterprise_ and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

No, it’s just that talking to Chekov is like talking to a rock. A really cold, unfun rock.

And Sulu’s pretty sure he’s met rocks on alien planets that show more interest in him than Chekov does.

Not that Sulu _wants_ Chekov to be interested in him.

And he’s not sure why his brain has gone there.

At least they _work_ well together. And Sulu has Nyota and Jim for friendship. It’s actually Chekov who doesn’t seem to have anyone.

Which is how this whole stupid thought process got started in the first place.

With Chekov eating lunch alone – like always – and Sulu thinking the poor guy might be lonely and plunking his tray down across from Chekov’s. It hadn’t gone well.

_Sulu: Hey!_  
Chekov: [mumbles] Hey.  
Sulu: I see you got the spaghetti.  
Chekov: [stares]  
Sulu: I, uh, did too. As you can see.  
Chekov: [stares some more]  
Sulu: Good navigating through that asteroid field today.  
Chekov: [nods]  
Sulu: [takes a too big mouthful of spaghetti]  
Chekov: [drinks his milk]  
Sulu: [thinks: “Who drinks milk anymore?”]  
Sulu: “Have any plans for next shore leave?”  
Chekov: [raises an eyebrow] “In sixty-five days?” 

And that’s why Sulu’s giving up.

He doesn’t know what Chekov’s deal is and he doesn’t care.

 

 

 

Of course, this doesn’t explain why he finds himself telling Nyota all about it the next day at lunch.

She listens, her head in her hand. When he’s done, she stares off in the distance for a few minutes. It’s possible she’s looking at Chekov but Sulu refuses to look over his shoulder to confirm.

“Maybe he’s shy and not used to older intimidating officers talking to him?” she suggests.

“ _Intimidating?_ Me?” he levels his best ‘what the fuck’ eyebrow at her. “And older? I’m four years younger than Jim!”

“He is _seventeen_ , we probably all seem old – and scary – to him.”

“When am I ever scary?”

“Have you seen yourself after battle?” Sulu can’t help the self-satisfied smile. “Or your ‘I’m surrounded by idiots’ look?”

“Come on, you know I just do that to annoy Jim. And it’s not like boy genius would feel insecure in that area.”

She shakes her head at him. “Yeah, I’m _sure_ he’s insecurity-free.”

He tosses a fry at her and decides to not worry anymore about cold, genius seventeen-year-olds who are possibly just shy and insecure.

 

 

 

Sulu’s decision lasts all of two days. That’s when Jim assigns them to the same away team.

A team of two.

Sulu can’t wait for the scintillating conversation.

 

 

 

As anticipated the conversation is non-existent and the plants on Val Blue show more interest in Sulu than Chekov does.

Of course, that may be because Sulu is _prey_ to the plants.

Who are only winding their tentacles around him with intent to eat.

That at least sparks Chekov’s attention, who fires wildly at the Carnivorous Audrey, as Sulu’s taken to calling her. He grazes both Audrey _and_ Sulu, causing the tentacles to slacken and Sulu to swear.

But it at least jolts him into action and he manages to get hold of his sword and slash himself free.

“What was that?” Chekov pants, a safe distance away.

“Carnivorous alien plant. I call her Audrey.”

“Audrey?” Chekov’s eyebrows are practically at his hairline. “Her?”

He shrugs, smiles. “Gotta love the classics.”

Chekov keeps staring at him. Sulu feels self-conscious, not a usual thing for him.

He discovers it makes him keep talking.

“What can I say? The ladies love me.”

Chekov turns away and Sulu catches something that sounds like, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Okay, attitude, great.

Fuck Chekov and his big eyes, from now on, Sulu’s keeping his mouth shut.

 

 

 

That resolution lasts as long as the mission runs smoothly – about ten minutes.

“Shit!” Sulu shakes his comm. “What the hell is this?”

And since he forgot his resolution and blurted out a rhetorical question, this time, Chekov answers. “This appears to be an ion storm.” He pauses as if to emphasize what an idiot Sulu is for asking. “Sir.”

Of course it is. Clearly there’s no chance of bright skies for Sulu today.

He sits down and drinks some water. Chekov hovers.

Sulu lets the hovering happen while he figures out their next course of action, deliberately not asking Chekov for his input.

 

 

 

At least Chekov seems okay with the ‘climb to the top of the mountain in hopes of better reception’ plan. Probably because Chekov was just waiting for Sulu to come up what he’d deduced in like two seconds.

It’s like working with Sherlock Holmes.

But lacking in all excitement.

And camaraderie.

Plus, Sulu is no one’s Watson.

The mountain’s pretty high, as mountains go, so they break for the night.

In the light from Val Blue’s second, dimmer sun, Chekov pries some wires out of his comm and proceeds to concentrate fully on his task at hand: finding a way for technology to work in the ion storm.

Sulu busies himself setting up the tent which takes a minute thanks to self-erection technology, most of which Sulu spends trying not to giggle over _self-erection_ because apparently he’s twelve.

His rummaging for food only produces energy bars and dehydrated beans. He tosses the beans back in his pack and tosses a bar to Chekov, who actually looks up for that.

Bored and feeling stupid enough, Sulu decides to give conversation a go. “What would you be doing if you were back on the ship?”

Chekov stares up at him with a blank look. It’s a funny expression on him.

“I’d be getting my ass kicked by Jim at cards and regretting letting him talk me into it,” Sulu offers.

“I guess I would be...” He waits while Chekov crinkles his brow. “Either reading one of the physics articles recommended by Scotty or working on equations for Scotty.”

Sulu thinks it’s the most Chekov’s said to him in…he’s not sure how long. “So I guess you and Scotty are pretty tight?” He’s relieved that the kid has _someone_.

Chekov blinks. “Tight?”

“Uh, yeah, you know,” Sulu’s a bit thrown, “close. As friends.”

“Ah yes.” Chekov nods. “It is not something I have worked on.”

“ _Worked on_?” Chekov might as well be speaking Russian to him.

“At the academy my focus was advanced theoretical physics, although I also worked on stellar cartography and transporter theory.” It sounds like Chekov just recited that from memory.

“Um.” Sulu feels like he’s interviewing Chekov for a job or something. “But you must have done other things, like, um, hobbies with other people.”

“Oh!” Chekov beams. “I run!”

Oookay, Sulu needs to jump ship on this conversation fast. “So, uh, want to play cards?” He grabs them from his pack and holds them up, as if _seeing_ the cards will make Chekov say ‘yes.’

But maybe it does because he shrugs and says, “Yes. Alright.”

Half-hearted enthusiasm?

At this point, Sulu will take what he can get.

 

 

 

“Okay, stop. _Stop._ ” Sulu grabs Chekov’s shoulders. “Sit down.”

Chekov blinks at him as if he’s forgotten Sulu exists.

Which, come to think of it, he probably has.

He guides a perplexed Chekov to sit on a flat rock. “No more rewiring while walking. That’s the tenth time you’ve almost fallen flat on your face – or your ass.”

“Oh! Sorry.” A flush spreads across his cheeks. “I am close. There is just the issue with the sensory – oh!”

Chekov’s attention returns to the comm, something Sulu never learned about because he was too busy with flying. That’s okay, he’s happy to study the positioning and terrain data even though he already knows they’re going in the right direction.

They’re going up, how hard can it be?

Oh fuck, he shouldn’t have thought that. Now things will go all to hell.

 

 

 

They don’t.

Because Chekov is a genius who can fix comms in record time and then practically jog up to the top. Sulu, who considers himself in good shape, feels like he’s wheezing behind.

“Okay, let’s put your brilliance to the test.” Sulu rocks back on forth on his heels.

Chekov looks stricken. “I have not had the chance to test this properly. Let us hope that this does not cook the comm.”

“ _Cook_ the comm? You mean _fry_ it?” Sulu eyes the comm but refuses to back down from potential death by electrocution.

“Yes, cook, fry.” Chekov sniffs, it’s definitely a dismissive sniff. “But we have no choice.”

He turns on the comm and it blinks to life.

Fortunately there’s no spark or flame or electrified Chekov.

Chekov moves to hand it to Sulu, but he waves it back to Chekov. “You did the work, you should make the call.”

For a split second, Sulu catches what may be the hint of a smile on Chekov’s face. “Chekov to Enterprise.”

“Enterprise here!” Scotty’s voice booms through the comm. “It’s good to hear your voice. Is Sulu with you?”

“He’s here. Two to beam up.”

“Aye, give me a minute. Just getting a lock now.”

Chekov is definitely and actually smiling now. More like beaming.

It hits Sulu like the full force of the planet’s two suns.

And makes Sulu do stupid things.

Really stupid things.

Like grabbing Chekov, pulling him in and kissing him.

It’s way better than Sulu ever pretended he never imagined it would be. Chekov’s lips are soft and when Sulu grabbed him he let out a small breath, an _ahh_ , that went right to Sulu’s cock.

Sulu never wants to be doing anything but this. If he died right here and now, he’d be okay with that.

Chekov appears to have the opposite opinion, though, because he shoves Sulu away, _hard_.

He stares at Sulu, his eyes wide and wipes his mouth with his shirt sleeve. A quick, simple gesture that pretty much says, _Fuck you_.

Which is probably the same thing Chekov’s muttering in Russian right now, as Sulu stands helplessly by, gasping, untethered. Sulu thinks he catches the word _whore_ , but can’t be sure.

He’s not sure what the hell he just did.

He’s not sure about anything.

That’s when they get beamed up.

 

 

 

Things are tense.

Well, that’s putting it mildly.

Things are so chilly between them, they might as well be working on the surface of Neptune.

After beaming back, Sulu decided it was best to let Chekov cool off, post-kiss.

Unfortunately, Chekov seems to have taken that literally, speaking to Sulu as little as strictly possible, and only in a professional capacity.

Sulu’s convinced that if they were on the playground, Chekov would ask Kirk to remind Sulu to “veer point seven degrees to port to avoid us all being sucked into the black hole that was Ypsilon Seven,” just to avoid speaking directly to him.

He thinks he’d almost prefer that to the clipped and harsh way Chekov says it himself.

 

 

 

“I don’t get you sometimes.” Nyota shakes her head. “You kiss him and when he recoils in horror –”

“Hey! Things weren’t _that_ bad.”

She just stares him down. Man, Nyota can be badass.

“Okay, okay, they were.”

“So he _recoiled_ , not ideal. But, you need to talk to him.” She spears her fork into her steak. “Just apologize and get it over with.”

He sighs. “You’re right. Why are you always right?”

She smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

 

 

Chekov disappears at the end of each shift. Like, literally. If Sulu didn’t know better, he’d think Chekov was having his not-friend Scotty beam Chekov directly off the bridge and into his quarters.

But Nyota’s right, he needs to man up and face the fire.

Or an extremely hostile Chekov.

Which really amounts to the same thing.

He squares his shoulders and makes his way across the mess to Chekov’s table. He’s sitting alone again, holding up his PADD like a shield.

Their conversation goes as well as can be expected.

_Sulu: “Hey.”_  
Chekov: [mumbles] “Hey.”  
Sulu: “So I should... Can I sit down?”  
Chekov: “Uhh...”  
Sulu: [sits down]  
Chekov: [frowns]  
Sulu: “Don’t worry, I’m not – not going to kiss you again.”  
Chekov: “Okay.”  
Sulu: “I...” [takes a deep breath] “I want to apologize.”  
Chekov: “Okay”  
Sulu: “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”  
Chekov: [nods]  
Sulu: “So don’t worry, won’t happen again. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been pining away for you and your rejection has broken my heart or something. No broken hearts. I’m doing just fine without you!”  
Chekov: [blinks]  
Sulu: “Yeah, so I’m gonna – enjoy your food.”  
Sulu: [takes off] 

Back in his quarters Sulu replays the conversation and shakes his head.

 _Smooth, Sulu, smooth_.

What the fuck is wrong with him? How can one awkward kid turn him into a babbling idiot?

Sulu doesn’t plan to find out.

 

 

 

Kirk’s quarters are way nicer than his. He tells Jim this and he just laughs.

“You mean bigger. Yours have lots of plants and shit. And are way cleaner.”

“Bigger, yeah, bigger is better.” Sulu finds himself leaning on Jim’s shoulder. Man, that stuff the Anthiens gave them is _strong_.

“Right you are, my man.” Jim pats his head. Clearly, he’s feeling the effects, too.

Good thing they waited till they were back on ship to partake. Ha, partake, he has _some_ brain cells still working.

“You know who you should fuck…” Jim’s hand lands on Sulu’s thigh and stays there.

“Please tell me you don’t mean you.”

“Noooo!” Jim snorts. “Chekov. _That’s_ who you should fuck. You two would be so... so...”

And Jim has passed out, his head falls into Sulu’s lap.

With _Chekov_ ringing in Sulu’s head he shoves Jim up at bit so he can collapse on the couch and passes out with Jim on top of him.

 

 

 

Sulu is determined _not_ to follow any romantic advice offered by Jim while high – or possibly any romantic advice offered by Jim at all – except he does like the idea of sex.

It’s been a while.

But he’s definitely going to ignore the Chekov part.

Which is easy to do since Chekov is still avoiding him, if being slightly less arctic about it.

It’s also easy to ignore Chekov when the hot guy from engineering offers to spot Hikaru during his free weights session.

He introduces himself as Sangye and proceeds to make it very clear that _he’s_ not going to recoil in horror at Sulu’s touch.

Hot and willing? Sulu can work with that.

 

 

 

After a few weeks with Sangye, things fizzle out.

Sulu’s okay with it. Sure, it was good sex, but Sangye talked too much and put too much product in his hair.

He’s pretty sure Sangye’s okay with it, too, since he’s moved onto the next hot thing.

Without meaning to, Sulu finds himself doing that too.

 

 

 

The thing with Jamal lasts twice as long as with Sangye, yet Sulu’s still not that broken up when they break up.

And this time he does need a break – no more next hot things.

No matter the flirty looks Tara keeps flashing him.

It’s time to be a free man for a while.

 

 

 

Around this time, Sulu notices that Chekov seems to have reverted to his chilly, post-kiss self. If the icy glares directed his way are any indication.

He’s not sure what to make of it.

And doesn’t relish another one of their fun conversations.

So decides to not say anything at all.

 

 

 

Which is how he ends up asking Chekov about it the next week.

To be fair, it’s all Jim’s fault.

He’s the one who insists they celebrate Chekov’s eighteenth birthday on shore leave.

He’s the one who finds some Terran-themed bar that serves vodka.

And he’s the one who keeps buying all the rounds.

Or maybe it’s Chekov’s fault.

He’s the one who smiles that smile that Sulu can’t resist after the first shot.

He’s the one who stops sending Sulu those icy glares after the second shot.

And he’s the one who actually gets friendly with Sulu after the third shot.

“No, no.” Chekov hits Sulu’s shoulder, lightly, there’s no force behind it. “You do not just move legs. Running is – it is like art. _Art_.”

“Uh huh.” Sulu tips back another shot, the burn hardly noticeable this time. “Whatever you say. You just _wish_ you did something as cool as fencing.”

“Pfft. Just waving sword around.” Chekov waves his arm wildly, knocking over Scotty’s beer. Fortunately Scotty’s doing waving of his own, by way of a heated argument with Dr. McCoy, so he doesn’t notice. Sulu catches “rickety” and “my ship” before remembering he’s been insulted.

“Waving a – I don’t even,” he sputters. It’s possible he’s drunk. “I’ll _show_ you art.”

He’s not sure what he’s going to show Chekov, but he knows he’s going to show him something. But then Chekov giggles – _giggles_ – and falls off his chair.

“Chekov!” He kneels down and puts his hand on Chekov’s forehead; it’s warm. “Are you okay?”

Chekov just keeps on laughing.

“I thought you Russians are supposed to be able to hold your liquor.”

“No time to drink. Starfleet, then navigate _Enterprise_.”

“Right. All-work-and-no-play Pavel Chekov, I’ve got it.”

Chekov blinks up at him.

“Can you sit up?” Chekov nods so he starts to help pull him up. “You’re weird, you know. I don’t get why you hate me.”

“Hate you?” Chekov sighs and looks almost sorrowful. “I do not hate you.”

“Well, you have a funny way of showing it. Why all the death glares lately? What’d I do? Harsh your genius vibe?”

“What is this harsh vibe?” Chekov’s frown is so, well, _cute_ , that Sulu leans closer…then remembers the recoil of terror and freezes.

“I do not hate,” Chekov mutters and leans forward the rest of the way.

Sulu’s still frozen when Chekov kisses him. But when he hears that soft _ahh_ , he unfreezes pretty damn quickly, grabbing the back of Chekov’s neck.

Naturally, this is the moment when Jim yells, “Where’s our no-longer-jailbait navigator?”

They spring apart. Sulu brushes dirt off his pants and avoids eye contact with Chekov. Nyota catches his eye and raises an eyebrow. He shakes his head and shrugs.

Like he knows what’s going on.

 

 

 

The guy who maybe does know what’s going on has passed out on Scotty’s shoulder and is snoring away while Scotty sings something that, even without knowing the song, Sulu can tell is off-key.

“So, what do you say? Best party ever?” Jim slides into the booth beside Sulu holding what may actually be water or is more likely vodka. “Or _best_ party ever?”

Sulu scans the bar and sees Nyota in a similar position to Chekov’s, but drooling on Spock’s shoulder. McCoy is playing pool with Chapel looking more relaxed than Sulu’s seen him in, well, ever.

Jim giving them all a strip show – again – was maybe not the highlight of the evening, but Sulu has to admit the guy knows how to look good naked (or nearly naked, since he _is_ the captain and they _are_ visitors on the planet).

And then there’s the matter of Chekov kissing him.

“You win, Jim, best party ever.” He sniffs Jim’s glass and upon determining it’s safe, finishes it off. “Promise me we won’t do this again. Ever. Or at least not for another year.”

“But...” Jim pouts at him. He looks ridiculous. “Best party ever!”

“I need some time. And I didn’t need to know you wear a thong.”

“C’mon, you know I totally pull that off.”

“No comment.”

Jim grins at him, it’s his evil grin. “Will you at least admit that you’re hot for former jailbait?”

Sometimes Sulu doesn’t know if Jim is a genius disguised as a douche or a douche with moments of brilliance. Either way, he’s an okay guy. Annoying at times, but a good guy nonetheless.

“I admit nothing.”

 

 

 

Nothing is the theme that follows.

As in ‘act like nothing happened.’

Sulu’s not sure what to make of it, but goes with it. He doesn’t know what to make of Chekov in general, after all, so it’s not like he’s going to understand his response to this one situation.

If forced, by Nyota (who thankfully hasn’t asked him), to answer if he’s happy about the whole thing, he’d say no.

But right now he’s not unhappy _enough_ to stop doing nothing himself.

 

 

 

It ends up being Jim, and not Nyota, who gets Sulu to stop doing nothing.

“Ow!” Sulu rubs the back of his head and turns around from the console to glare at Jim. “What the hell, Jim?”

“Stop moping and get in party mode, Hikaru.”

Sulu groans. Any time the word ‘party’ leaves Jim’s mouth it portends bad things.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. My quarters, 20:00. Just a small gathering.”

“Small?” Jim doesn’t do small.

“Well, maybe more of a shindig. Scotty _is_ bringing dip.”

“Uh huh.”

“Hikaruuuu.”

“Fine, I’ll be there. Now will you go away?”

Jim walks off whistling. Sulu rolls his eyes, but admits he’s up for the distraction.

 

 

 

The way Sulu’s life has been going lately, it makes total sense that he walks into the party and smack into the very thing from which he needs a distraction.

The which being more a whom. Chekov, of course.

Who’s frowning at the red liquid now splashed down his white t-shirt.

Sulu stares at the tight shirt, his brain caught in a loop thinking about how _good_ it looks on Chekov and why doesn’t he wear white more often?

Sulu can’t hear anything; there’s a roaring like the ocean in his ears. It’s possible Jim is talking, but Sulu doesn’t know or care.

He takes a fistful of the white shirt in question and drags it and its owner back to his room.

It’s not till he’s keyed in the access code that Sulu’s brain clears enough to notice that Chekov’s definitely not resisting.

It’s a good thing.

Especially since he’s just shoved Chekov against the nearest wall.

Chekov stands there, breathing, with those big eyes of his that just _get_ to Sulu.

They make him do things.

Things he doesn’t normally do.

Things like kiss Chekov. Hard. All teeth and hot breath and tight grip in Chekov’s hair.

Things like slide his leg between Chekov’s and grind it against his hard dick.

Things like bite down Chekov’s neck, breathing hard. Not caring if he leaves marks. _Wanting_ to.

Going down and down until he’s on his knees.

He looks up and meets those eyes and doesn’t know why he ever thought he didn’t know what the hell goes through Chekov’s head, because he knows _exactly_ what Chekov wants right now.

Chekov gasps and grasps handfuls of Sulu’s hair like he’s never had a blowjob before.

He comes quick and with a gasp that’s more like a whimper and it gives Sulu this crazy giddy feeling like he’s the first person to see Chekov this vulnerable.

He feels special.

Even as he wipes Chekov’s come off his mouth.

Any other time he’d laugh about that, but he’s too busy standing up, grabbing Chekov and pulling him in for another kiss.

Chekov breaks it and mutters in Sulu’s ear: “I… should I… I don’t…”

Sulu does. He guides Chekov’s hand to his cock.

All it takes is two hesitant squeezes and Sulu is coming in his pants for the first time since he was fifteen and fooling around with David Greenblatt in his basement.

He feels as horny as he did back then and kisses Chekov again and shoves him back to bed.

They lie there and make out. With their clothes on. And it’s the hottest thing ever, even as Sulu fantasizes about what Chekov will look like spread out naked below him.

That has him coming in his clothes – again – biting down on Chekov’s neck, who groans, his nails digging into Sulu’s back when he comes again.

As he’s passing out, Sulu thinks he hears Chekov breathe, “Hikaru.”

 

 

 

Sulu wakes up alone.

It’s not really a surprise except, well, yeah, it is.

Sulu goes to the gym and works up a sweat. Never has he been happier for a punching bag and willing sparring partners.

His shower after has never felt so good, yet he’s still not satisfied.

He spends the rest of his day off reading up on the care of the Anthien orchid, lying on his bed watching holovids and even losing a game of chess to Spock.

No Chekov sightings and Sulu tells himself that he’s okay with it.

 

 

 

Sulu’s not okay with it the next day when Chekov sniffs out a “hello” and that’s it. For their entire shift.

He’s beginning to wonder if Chekov is taking lessons from one Dr. McCoy on the clear and concise conveyance of contempt. He’s one eyebrow lift away from mastery.

Of course, that’s only with Sulu. Otherwise he’s his usual ray of fucking sunshine – all chirpy _Yes, Keptin’_ s and beaming smiles.

As if that’s not bad enough, Chekov has also perfected the art of avoiding Sulu and is nowhere to be seen in the mess. Not that this whole saga needs any more awkward mealtime encounters.

Unfortunately, this just makes Sulu more certain of what he must do. And he doesn’t need Nyota’s help with this one.

 

 

 

Later, when he’s of sound mind and body, Sulu remembers that he cornered Chekov in the hallway to _talk_.

His instincts, which took over when he’d yanked a wide eyed and compliant Chekov into an alcove, had other ideas.

Ideas that seemed like _really good ideas_.

You know, at the time.

His dick had been a big endorser of this alternate approach.

It really liked pressing Chekov up against a wall, shoving his fingers through those curls and his tongue in Chekov’s mouth.

It’s hard to argue with his dick.

Sulu’s tried before and it always wins.

Later, though, he has complaints. All that planning, and he’d just let Chekov walk off without so much as a word exchanged between them.

 _Brilliant, Sulu, brilliant_.

 

 

 

That night Sulu can’t sleep. He does the whole tossing and turning thing for a while, before giving up and grabbing his PADD.

In a desperate attempt to be lulled to sleep, he ends up reading Starfleet bulletins. He reads the last month’s worth and is sure he can now rival Spock in quoting proper procedure.

Jim will love it.

He stumbles about the next morning, bleary from four hours sleep and desperate for coffee. With lots of sugar for that extra wake-up power.

The coffee seems to work, although he’s jittery all morning and has to keep blinking to focus.

He’s careful not to look in Chekov’s direction.

Jim corners him at lunch and Sulu appreciates that Jim is being his friend, not his Captain.

“You’re an idiot.”

 _Appreciate_ may be the wrong word.

“ _Jim_ ,” he says, working his ‘fuck off’ look.

“You’re an idiot,” Jim repeats. “Stop lusting after Chekov and do something about it.”

“I _have_ done something about it,” Sulu snaps, then sighs. “He just, fuck, ignores me after. What do I do with that?”

“Hmm.” Jim scoops up a forkful of mashed potatoes and pops it in his mouth.

Sulu pushes his own potatoes around, waiting. Jim has his thinking face on and it’s times like these that Sulu hopes Jim really _is_ a genius.

’Cause otherwise he’s screwed.

“So, did you really hit that?”

Yep, screwed.

“Mostly. More lead up to the hitting.”

Doesn’t mean he’s not desperate enough to answer.

“One time only?”

“Twice.”

Jim leers at him and nods. Sulu rolls his eyes.

“Then you’re so in!” Jim leans over. “I’m going to drop some knowledge on you.” The Jim Kirk smirk is in full force. “You want him to stick around after, all you have to do is _tell_ him.”

“It’s not that –”

“Uh huh.” Jim holds up a hand. “No excuses. Just fucking man up, Hikaru.”

It’s possible Jim may be on to something. Maybe.

“And Lieutenant? I don’t want to see you sleep walking through another shift. Not on my ship.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

 

 

Sulu ignores Jim’s advice for the next few days.

He’s just being contrary. It has nothing to do with not knowing how to approach Chekov.

His usual _‘Hey, so this thing is working out. Want to keep it up and maybe even talk occasionally?’_ seems like the wrong tactic with Chekov.

Sulu tries to take these days to strategize but his only idea is to fuck Chekov to get him out of his system, and he’s not sure if he _wants_ Chekov out of his system or if that would even work.

Besides, he’s more of an action guy. _Screw it_ , he thinks, and decides to wing it.

 

 

 

He must have lulled Chekov into a false sense of security because it’s surprising easy to grab Chekov’s arm as they’re leaving their shift.

It’s also surprisingly easy to get Chekov to agree to accompany Sulu to his room. Almost too easy.

So easy that Sulu forgets – again – what he’s supposed to be doing and finds himself pulling Chekov down onto his lap on the bed. Sulu loses himself in the feel of Chekov’s hips between his hands and the warmth of his mouth.

Some distant rational part of his brain notes that he’s not always this crazily horny and wonders how Chekov is doing this to him. But now is not the time for rational thought.

He lets out a groan when he feels hands on his chest, pushing away from him, and blinks up at a frowning Chekov.

“Sulu.”

He sighs, even though he remembers he should be the one doing this. It’s just that Chekov’s tone does not suggest good things.

“This is… You should know…” Chekov stands up and starts pacing, a wild gleam in his eyes. “I do not do this.” He gestures between them. “Ever!”

Sulu nods. Um, _yeah_ , kinda obvious. Not that he’s complaining.

“You – I know this is not big… _no_ big deal for you. But for me, it is.” He stares down at the Anthien orchid. “Iamnotreadytobeanotherslotinyourbedpost.”

“Um...” Sulu’s reminded of Mariko and Janet, who he thought spoke some secret older sister language until he turned ten and realized they just talked at some crazy superspeed. “Sorry. What?”

Chekov sighs and sits down on the desk chair. “I am not like you. Not a player. Is okay that you are bad boy, that is fine. But I… no. I should not do this anymore. Thank you.”

 _Thank you?_ Sulu sputters, “Uh–you–me–player… You think I’m a–a bad boy? _Me_?”

Chekov nods. “Just because everyone says we would be perfect together and I like you,” he blushes and stares at his feet, “does not mean anyone knows what is right for me.” He sits up straighter and meets Sulu’s eyes. “I know me best and bad boy is not what I need.”

Sulu’s brain is whirling in an overdrive of confusion. He’s never been called a bad boy in his life. It’s always _nice_ or _sweet_ with a sigh as the person breaks up with him. He should defend his honor but what comes out is, “You like me?” It really is the most improbable of all the unbelievable things Chekov said.

His only reply is a deeper blush.

Still thrown by the idea of being a player but also kind of buoyed by it, Sulu finds himself standing up and walking toward Chekov. Stalking toward him actually, because apparently all he needed was to be told he’s bad to attain Jim Kirk levels of confidence.

He reaches out and cups Chekov’s cheek. His skin is so soft.

“It’s okay.” Sulu leans closer. “I like you, too, Pavel.”

He pulls Chekov up and kisses him, pressing a hand into the small of his back. It feels so good to have his hand there he wonders why they haven’t been doing this all along. Oh right, weirdness.

Sulu pulls back, but not far. “Wait.” Chekov blinks at him. “So, your whole ‘I hate Sulu’ attitude was because you thought I was, like, this big heartbreaker?”

“What can I say, Hikaru?” Chekov actually looks like he’s smirking. “You go around slutting it up like some big manwhore, what am I supposed to think?”

“Whoa.” Sulu takes a step back to boggle. “ _Manwhore?_ What is this, the twentieth century?”

“You read a lot.” Chekov shrugs. “You pick things up.”

Never has alcohol been needed more than right now. Not even Kirk’s “surprise” birthday party (a surprise to no one, least of all Kirk) required alcohol the way Sulu needs it now. He grabs the sake he’d been saving for a special occasion and cracks it open, pouring both Chekov and himself a drink.

They settle down onto the couch together and take a few minutes sitting and sipping in silence.

The silence is about to shift from comfortable to awkward when Chekov surprises Sulu by talking.

“The thing, Hikaru, is that I am intelligent and _not_ a child,” he glares at a confused Sulu, “despite what the crew thinks.”

“Um, I should hope it’s clear that I do not think of you as a child. Let’s see, you’ve saved my life, helped take down Nero. Plus, I’ve made out with you on multiple –”

“Yes, yes.” Chekov waves him off. “But everyone else, _Keptin_ , Scotty, they tell me you and I should be together.” He puts his sake down and meets Sulu’s eyes. “No one tells me what to do.”

Sulu feels like he might laugh, but suspects that the current, oh-so-serious Chekov won’t appreciate it. He takes a quick sip and tries to hide the weird giddy feeling he has. “So, you were hating on me because everyone said you should like me?”

“Yes.” Chekov nods as if to emphasize his point. “I am my own man. And you? Not good choice for me.”

“Because I’m a bad boy?” Sulu asks, succumbing to this surreal conversation. He refills both their cups and has to restrain himself from downing his like a shot.

“Yes!”

Sulu can’t help himself any longer and starts to laugh. It’s all just too crazy and the sake may be going to his head, but he thinks it’s mostly Chekov.

Who is now looking annoyed. “I did not agree with the _Keptin_ that it would help that you have ‘been around.’” Sulu snorts at that. “I am okay that you have,” Chekov says looking the most earnest Sulu’s seen him since that bulletin he made on their first flight together. “It is just that because I have not ‘been around,’ it did not seem a good match.”

“So logical you could rival Spock.” Sulu grins, unable to take anything seriously anymore. “Did you consider that your logic is flawed?” Chekov turns paler than usual. “Doesn’t it make sense to be with someone more,” he leans closer to Chekov and raises an eyebrow, “ _experienced_?”

“Yes,” Chekov says staring into his cup. “I reconsidered this after – after we kissed. But…”

“You didn’t want to be wrong?”

Chekov nods and has the decency to look sheepish. “And you move on quickly, and I do not want, what you call it, casual encounter.”

“ _Casual encounter_? I don’t even want to know what you’ve been reading.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I think I should clear some things up.”

“Okay.” Chekov relaxes back, his earnestness dissolving into a smile. “You will tell me about your slutting ways, yes?”

“You’re a weird guy. You know that, right?”

“I have been told it is so.”

Sulu has no idea what he’s getting into, but decides to go for it. “First, you should never listen to _anything_ Jim tells you about me. He is… just don’t.” He finishes his cup and places it carefully on the table. “Second, I’m not so much a ‘manwhore,’” he makes airquotes around the word, “as someone who’s willing to try things out with people – you know, ‘get around’ – and, more often than not, I’m the one people move on from.”

“So you are telling me you are really a pathetic loser?” Chekov actually smirks at him. It kinda blows Sulu’s mind.

“Yeah, like you.” He nudges Chekov. “But if you want to _think_ of me as a bad boy who you need to resist, that’s cool with me.”

“It’s _cool_ , is it?” Chekov puts his cup on the table. He makes a show of looking Sulu up and down.

Sulu’s beginning to question how much Chekov hasn’t ‘been around.’

He questions it more when Chekov shifts closer and breathes in his ear. “You like me thinking you are bad?”

All questions – and thoughts – go out the window when Chekov squeezes his thigh. “It makes you hot?”

“Uh.” Seriously, how is Sulu supposed to answer that?

Especially since Chekov has just straddled his lap. Chekov with the straddling has _officially_ blown Sulu’s mind.

At least his hands still work, since they’re now on Chekov’s ass.

His mouth also works, if the crazy way he’s kissing Chekov is any indication.

Chekov breaks the kiss and puts a hand on each of Sulu’s cheeks and just stares. They’re both breathing heavily. Chekov smirks at him. Again. Sulu’s seen that smirk more in the last ten minutes than he’s seen, well, ever.

“Fine, I cannot resist you.” Chekov sighs, a very fake, overly dramatic sigh. “I give in.”

Before Sulu can so much as blink, Chekov illustrates his point by pressing fully against Sulu, kissing him hard and biting Sulu’s bottom lip. If this is Chekov’s idea of giving in, Sulu’s all for it.

He’s so all for it, that it pulls him out of his ‘what the hell is going on?’ daze and gets him moving.

They stumble back to the bed, Chekov’s legs around Sulu’s waist while he shoves Sulu’s shirts off. Sulu is quick to reciprocate. He has a moment to take in the smooth firmness of Chekov’s chest, before he’s distracted by hands pushing his pants down.

He stares, feeling like he’s stepped into an alternate dimension when Chekov pushes his own pants and boxer briefs off without a moment of hesitation.

Who is this Chekov and where has he been all this time?

And more importantly, why does Sulu still have his underwear on?

He yanks his off and asks, “Are you sure _you’re_ not the player here?”

“Shut up, Hikaru.”

He does.

Because Chekov has pressed him to the bed and started biting and kissing down Sulu’s neck.

It’s feeling really good... until Sulu remembers that _he’s_ supposed to be the bad boy here. Time to be the suave man of action Chekov imagined he was.

Sulu rolls on top of Chekov and grips his wrists. He takes a moment to stare down at Chekov who’s panting and looking as dazed as Sulu feels.

Dazed and horny.

And so fucking hot.

Chekov scratches his nails down Sulu’s back when he bites Chekov’s nipples and Sulu’s never felt so bad.

He runs a hand down Chekov’s side and breathes in his ear, “You want a bad boy?” He grasps Chekov’s cock. “I can be bad.” Sulu strokes Chekov with a firm grip.

Chekov moans and his head falls back.

Sulu gives a few more strokes before stopping, keeping his hand where it is. “Want to see how bad I can be?”

The rational part of his brain peeks out again to gape at him and his newly acquired dirty talk, but he ignores it.

“Mmm.” Chekov pushes up into Sulu’s hand. “Yes, yes. Don’t stop, Hikaru.”

“Pushy, aren’t you?” he asks as he rolls Chekov onto his stomach. Sulu sits back and takes in the expanse below him. A few freckles dot Chekov’s shoulders with one perfect round one on the small of his back. Sulu leans down and brushes his lips over it and Chekov lets out a long exhale.

Chekov squirms and looks over his shoulder. “Would not have to be if you were not so _slow_.”

“Shut up, Pavel,” Sulu says as he cups Chekov’s butt. He has to close his eyes to stop the image of him thrusting in and fucking Chekov into the mattress.

First things first.

The first touch of his tongue has Chekov gasping out, “Wha–Hik–oh…”

Oh yeah, _this_ is how to get Chekov to shut up.

Or not, since Chekov is gasping out, “Yes”, loudly and in a demanding tone.

Why is Sulu not surprised?

But he only keeps at it until Chekov loses all ability to talk, reduced to semi-coherent moans. Oh yeah, Sulu is _bad_.

He stops when Chekov grunts something that sounds like “stop” and pushes at Sulu so Chekov can roll over facing him. It didn’t sound like ‘get off me’ so much as ‘too much,’ so Sulu waits.

“You need to fuck me, Hikaru,” Chekov says, sounding his most oh-so-serious. His eyes are big and his hands grip Sulu’s forearms. “ _Right now_.”

“You love calling the shots, don’t you?”

Chekov gives Sulu a ‘duh’ look and grunts as if to say ‘hurry the fuck up.’

“Uh.” Despite how well things are going, Sulu still wasn’t expecting this. “Aren’t you – are you sure you’re ready?”

Chekov glares at him and gives Sulu a vision of what a good commanding presence he’ll have as a captain some day. “I’m sure,” he barks. “Do it. _Now_.”

Sulu’s already reaching for the lube. As if he was going to refuse.

He still takes a moment to place his hand in the middle of Chekov’s chest and looks him in the eye. “Okay?”

Chekov rolls his eyes, but still nods.

A minute later he’s coming when Sulu’s finger first touches his prostate. Sulu can’t help the satisfied smirk.

Of course it’s Chekov who decides when Sulu needs to get on with things. “C’mon, Hikaru, now.”

“As you wish, _your highness_.”

“Hikaru,” Chekov actually almost whines his name. “Please.”

He can’t refuse that _please_.

Maybe Sulu isn’t that nice of a guy after all, because he stops caring whether Chekov’s a virgin and just cares about fucking him. But he still takes a breath and tries to slow down as he enters, so he hasn’t lost his good guy cred entirely.

Chekov is gasping and digging his nails into Sulu’s arms and Sulu feels like his vision is tunnelling until all there is is Chekov. “Pavel,” he murmurs.

He feels giddy and blown apart simultaneously, like sitting at the helm knowing _he’s_ driving this ship through the deep black of space.

Chekov opens his eyes and meets Sulu’s. Fuck that, this is nothing like the helm, and Sulu’s not at all sure he’s the one driving.

That’s okay. Sulu’s cool with that.

In fact, Sulu feels stoned, but that’s just making everything better. Bigger. Brighter.

He loses himself to the feeling and tries to take his time. Make it last.

Being fucked still doesn’t shut Chekov up, though, and he keeps demanding “harder” and “more.”

Sulu can’t refuse.

He feels the moment that Chekov comes again. He hears it when Chekov breathes, “Hikaru.”

That’s all it takes for Sulu to come, too, and collapse onto Chekov. He shifts so that Chekov can breathe but he’s still partly lying on him.

They lie there for a few minutes, just breathing.

“I think… you are not so bad.” Chekov pats his hair.

Sulu smiles against Chekov’s chest. “And I’m thinking that you’re way badder than you let on.”

“Maybe.”

“Pushy, even.”

“I know what I want.”

“I guess I’m okay with that.”

Chekov traces a finger down Sulu’s cheek. “Good.”

 

 

 

He must have dozed off because he wakes up to Chekov pulling the blanket over them. Sulu’s face is in the nape of Chekov’s neck and he breathes in the mix of sweat and the smell he knows is _Chekov_.

He brushes a hand down Chekov’s side, it feels smooth, untouched.

Sulu props a chin on Chekov’s chest and looks him in the eyes. “Hey,” he starts, “don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“Where would I go, Hikaru?” Chekov raises an eyebrow at him. “Naked. At 1:00 a.m.”

Trust Chekov to make this hard for him. “Just stay here. In my room. Alright?”

“In your room? I should stay here always?” Chekov is working that damn smirk again.

Sulu groans. “Fuck, Pavel, just don’t pull another disappearing act on me. I’d like you to stick around.”

Chekov just stares at him like he’s waiting for more.

“I want you around for more than just sex,” Sulu sighs, “ _okay_?”

“Oh, okay, yes.” Chekov pats Sulu’s cheek and closes his eyes. “Good.”

“Good.” Sulu pulls Chekov a bit tighter and drifts into sleep.

 

 

 

Sulu wakes up beside Chekov. He’s turned in his sleep and their faces are inches away from each other. Chekov has drooled on the pillow.

Sulu smiles. Satisfied.


End file.
